


We Were Here

by mermatee



Series: Ghost Stories [2]
Category: Ghost - Mystery Skulls (Music Video), Mystery Skulls (Band)
Genre: Afterlife, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:03:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2747003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mermatee/pseuds/mermatee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to At Least There Is Us. Four drabbles on how the members of the gang are holding up shortly after the cave incident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lewis

Sometimes, ghosts were anchored to a certain location, unable to leave unless contained within a vessel of some sort. Sometimes, that location was a person, and the ghost spent the rest of that person's life following them. Sometimes, ghosts were young, and weak, and unsure about the circumstances of their death, flitting in and out of focus and unable to move on until confronted with the details of their demise. Sometimes that made them strong, and angry, and sometimes it made them move on. There were so many different kinds of spirit, Vivi had explained to him over coffee on that day they walked out of their psychology class. 

Lewis became vaguely aware of time passing and splitting into three chunks: The Before, The Green, and The Ongoing. Now was The Ongoing. He drifted around the cave, guessing which stalagmite had pierced him. He sometimes saw bats fly. Featureless spirits who had been dead for so long without ever knowing why they couldn't rest followed him, offering nothing but company and slightly discordant humming noises. Lewis found himself regarding them as pets. 

There was a strange feeling in his chest, that would be cold and aching if he could feel physical pain and any sort of temperature. After the green flames, and the blood, and the screaming, and the hand on his back had soaked in his memory, the not cold/not pain settled in. That's when he thought of Arthur flying farther away as he had fallen, and so much rage had clouded his mind, expanding until it almost felt solid, heavy. He was dead, his body gone, and he couldn't see how it could be so.   
Over time, Arthur's nervous smile twisted into a nightmarish death mask, at least in Lewis' memory. His touch carried the damp rot of the grave and his voice became indistinguishable from the sad, empty echoes of this tomb. The nervous, scrawny young man in Lewis' memory withered into something barely human, a creature rotting to the core, buckled under the weight of Lewis' death, and he still could not pity it. 

Sometimes, he thought of The Before, and weak flames of his past licked at him; he remembered seemingly random moments, disjointed but as fresh as the water that pooled around the cave. Vivi on Coney Island that time, eating an enormous ice cream cone following a successful investigation, the open skies of Nevada above him as Arthur took the night shift driving, Mystery's joyful barks when any of them arrived home, warm nights, Vivi's laugh, that week they spent broke when a client withheld payment and they made it into a contest to see who could prepare Ramen in the most bizarre way, and eventually it devolved into the passage of time. Haircuts and birthday cakes and insurance renewals for the van and prescriptions to be filled and so many dull tasks that he hadn't considered to be representative of his life flowing away. 

The soft violet shapes that wandered the cave were of some comfort, occasionally merging through Lewis or nuzzling his current form (what did that even look like?), but carrying with them the threat of Lewis becoming one of them. It was impossible, he told himself, if anything, he was becoming stronger. Just the other day, he had managed to pick up a small rock and throw it. When he first arrived, it simply would have passed straight through what used to be his fingers. He still remembered how he died, parts of his life. He still burned with anger at a man he thought incapable of hurting anyone. 

There was something else in the cave, and it hated the man too. 

HE WASTED NO TIME IN THROWING YOU TO YOUR DEATH, BOY. 

Lewis nodded. One of the small, humming purple spirits briefly managed to almost tug at his sleeve. He ignored it. 

YOU DO REALISE THAT HE LIVES. HE HOLDS HER AT NIGHT AND CONTINUES TO LIVE ON. AND YOU ARE HERE.

He could almost feel the rough surface of the wall he rested against. He could never tell where its words were coming from. It felt as though the cave itself raged against Arthur for adding to the lost spirits that resided in it, or at least that it wanted Lewis to. 

But why? Because of Vivi? Had he wanted her for himself, was everything he ever told Lewis a lie? He felt what would be his insides throb green and hot and furious. He was to spend eternity patrolling a miserable, damp cave because of an unspoken dispute? He had known Arthur for so long, so many nights, so many miles on highways at two in the morning, and he had doomed him to this. 

Sometimes, he remembered Vivi's face. The last thing he had seen. He looked up, and saw the monster, all sickly betrayal and glowing eyes, standing over him, then turned his head to the source of the screams. She wouldn't remember, the cave assured him. She would remember him, of course; he'd become too deeply embedded into her thoughts for her to forget him entirely, but the moment he fell would be wiped from her memory until she found herself racing away, slipping and scrabbling up that slope. 

It should have made him feel better. It didn't. 

One of the strange, formless spectres hummed by. Lewis swore that they sometimes sent a sad, sympathetic smile his way, despite them being so devoid of features. 

In the dark, sight gradually comes to mean less.


	2. Vivi

Some people never go away, not really. 

That's what she told herself as she located the name badge she wore at work for herself. Usually, he had the uncanny ability to find it without needing to be asked. And now she was going to be at least ten minutes late for work. For the extra shift she'd taken on, because she'd lost two sources of income on the same night. Lewis' family kept the restaurant open, his photograph by the bar, all smiles and hair cream and that stupid fucking ascot.....

It was all she could do not to break down. The pills from the doctor could only do so much. Mystery was her biggest source of comfort, sleeping on the bed, licking her hand and waking her up if she dreamed of what she could only imagine would be such a cruel way to die. 

The funeral had happened on a beautiful day, cool but dry, the sun soaking through the sparse clouds in the sky. The family took turns in sharing memories at the restaurant later, adults with glasses of spirits in their hands and children sadly sipping on milkshake. She wasn't meant to drink, not with those pills, but had anyway, and found herself sobbing and vomiting at home later, waking up in the morning slumped against the toilet with Mystery in her lap. 

God, she missed him. 

Her father and Miriam stopped by almost every other day, delivering soup and casseroles, enough to feed more than just her. Both had held her and cried with her at the funeral, as had Lewis' family. It wasn't her fault, they told her. You were kids. Kids who made a mistake, didn't account for a bear attack. That somehow made it worse. A fucking bear. What a grotesque and cartoonish way to die. They were paranormal investigators, and a fucking bear had left one of them dead and the other....

Well, Arthur was another matter. He was still in hospital. He knew that Lewis was dead, and, in the aftermath of his blood transfusion, had cried for him as he lay, barely conscious. He'd been fitted for one of those advanced prosthetic sockets. His mother had turned up at the hospital one day, berated him, told him how stupid he was to go around looking for what wouldn't want to be found in the first place. 

He had said nothing. 

He was coming home in a few days, prosthetic and all, but his parents had, once again, stormed out of his life when he couldn't quite muster the will to talk. “There is just nothing we can do for that boy” his mother had declared, heels clacking down the hospital corridor past Vivi, “I don't know what else he could expect from us when he won't even say hello”. 

Vivi had lied, given the hospital staff proof of her address and told the doctors that her father would keep an eye on him while she worked, making sure he was never left alone for too long. Her father didn't have the time to do it, and she knew that Arthur would have to be left alone, but “our dog will watch him” and “he's better off at home with me than left to rot in a sterile bed” would never cut it with the professionals. And she did need him at home. If he never uttered a single word ever again, she would still rather have him there, with her. The silence of the apartment soaked through everything she owned, but if there were another person there....

Well, there would be some form of hope. Arthur, she decided, was as broken as she was right now, maybe even more so, but at least they could crumble together. She could offer her warmth, cling to him in the night, they could wake each other from the hell that waited in sleep. 

Her cheeks were wet, and Mystery pushed her phone towards her with his nose. She couldn't do it today. Not today. She managed to just about hold it together when asking Craig if she could take today off, that she knew she wasn't sick in the real sense, but....

He said it was fine, to take as much time as she needed. She thanked him, flung her phone across the room, and sobbed like a child for over two hours, Mystery curled up at her side. 

“You're not going anywhere, right?” The dog tilted his head to one side. “Don't give me that. I know you understand. Don't ask how, but I do. You're not going to leave us, are you?”

Mystery chose that moment to reveal himself again. 

“No. I'm staying here with you.”

Vivi looked startled for a second, then clutched the dog to her chest. “Thank you. Thanks so much. Mystery, we need you.”

“I know.”

She rubbed tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater. “It will be OK though, right? Given time. Like, Lewis is dead. I know that. And Arthur's a mess, they're talking about moving him to psych if he doesn't come home with me. But we'll be OK, can you promise me that? I know it's a lot, but...”

Mystery rested his head on her lap. 

“I will do everything in my power to make everything how it should be.”

She wept into his fur until the doorbell rang. Confused and exhausted, she moved. The man at the door was stocky and ginger and covered in oil stains. Arthur's Uncle Lance. 

“Vivi, how've you been?” he asked, giving her an aggressive, but not unwanted hug. 

“Well, you know....” She trailed off. He nodded. 

“I'm sorry to hear about Lewis. He was a nice boy.”

She nodded, lower lip wobbling. Lance noticed. 

“Oh Vivi, I'm so sorry.”

And she couldn't hold it back any longer, burst into ugly tears, all snot and gulping, and-

“It's alright, sit down. Look, if you'd like me to go, I will, I won't take it personally or anything.”

She shook her head, held Mystery close to her chest. 

“OK. So, from what I gather, my nephew's still in hospital.”

Vivi recovered enough of her breath to respond. 

“He's coming home tomorrow. His parents went to see him and they just yelled at him. The doctors, they just wanted to stick him in a psych ward, and...” her voice broke.

Lance nodded. “And you want him here. That's fair. I know you don't know me all that well, but I've spent a lot of time with Arthur. His parents had... different plans for him, I guess.”

Vivi glanced up from Mystery's coat, face blotchy and tear stained. “They hate him.”

“No, they don't hate him. Problem is, they don't seem to care about him at all.”

Vivi nodded. Mystery licked a stray tear dribbling down her jaw. She kept rubbing the back of his head, staring at Lance. 

“Basically, I'm here to tell you that I'm here to keep an eye on him when he comes back, if you need to work. And I have a job ready for him when he can face it.”

Vivi pushed her hair aside. “What kind of job? What kind of job can he do with one arm?”

“Mechanic. It was his left arm that got ripped off, right?”

Vivi nodded her head.

“Well then, I could always use a talented mechanic over at the shop, and God knows Arthur's pretty talented. He managed to get that god-awful van running, for a start.”

Vivi managed to snort with laughter. “That thing, it's about a hundred years old...”

“And he keeps it going. Look, Viv, I know how much you mean to him, and I know he'll need people around when he gets out of hospital. Just make sure he knows there's a job for him when he can deal with it. And let me know if you need someone to keep an eye on him, OK?”

Vivi flung herself at Lance and hugged him. “Thanks” she whispered; “thanks, so much. I'll make sure he knows.”

Lance ruffled her hair sadly. “I'll leave you to it, then. I brought some cake over, by the way. Figured you'd be getting sick of casseroles.” He nodded towards a plastic tub on the floor. Vivi smiled.   
He squeezed her shoulder. “I'll leave my card in the hallway, call me whenever once he gets discharged, OK?”

“I will.”

“Are you OK though?”

Vivi paused, no longer feeling as though she understood what passed for “OK”. She glanced down at her feet. 

“I'm supposed to be at work, but I'm not.”

Lance nodded. “I'm sure they'll understand.”

“They shouldn't have to. None of this should ever have happened. It was my stupid idea, and now-”

“It wasn't your fault.”  
“Arthur didn't want to go in the first place.” She gave a bitter laugh. “And he's the one lying in a fucking hospital bed with only one arm. And Lewis...” she couldn't form the words, exhaustion burning through her form. 

The next few hours passed by as incoherent echoes. The familiar fabric of the couch was against her cheeks and fingertips, and Lance rang someone to reschedule something, and pottered around in the kitchen, washing up the saucepan that had been soaking for three days. A mug of coffee was placed in front of her, and it sat untouched until it was cold. She remembered him saying goodbye, the front door clicking shut, and, eventually, Mystery curled up against her, whining and nudging at her with a wet nose. Vivi sat up. 

“Has Lance gone?”

“Yes. He fixed the hot tap in the bathroom.”

“That's good.” She glanced up at the clock. Nearly midnight.

“He must think I'm so ungrateful...”

“No. You fell asleep for a while. I think he knew you needed the rest.”

“So Arthur's home tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think it's a good idea for you to talk around him? I mean, I guess I've always known on some level, but-”

“- so has Arthur. I believe so, anyway. I would not want to risk it at this time, however, given his current list of more pressing matters to deal with.” 

Vivi nodded. “Yeah, we should let him get used to things... you know. How they are.”

They sat in silence for a while, Mystery's tail casually thumping against the couch as Vivi rubbed that spot behind his ear. 

“It's going to be OK.” Mystery glanced up at his owner, her lips pressed together firmly. 

“It's going to be OK because it has to be. You know that, right?”

Mystery nodded. “It's what Lewis would have wanted, and what both you and Arthur need now.”

“How is it going to work though? Without Lewis-”

“It will be just as it was before you met him.”

Vivi's eyes burned. “I don't want to forget him.”

“You won't.”

“I had a dream last night that he was talking to me, but I couldn't understand him because I couldn't remember what his voice sounded like in reality and-”

“You won't forget him. I can promise that. Neither will Arthur.”

“I just... I don't want to remember him as he was at the funeral. I want to remember him driving the van, or washing the dishes, or talking to his mom in Spanish on the phone, or- I don't know. I just don't want to ever see him as a nice boy who died. It would be such a waste of his life, everything he was. Like I've written him off already, like there's nothing more to say about him other than him being dead. Mystery, do you think we'll ever....”

“.... run into him?”

“Yeah. Is that possible? Has he moved on, or is he still around?”

“It's not clear what has happened to his spirit. I don't wish to get your hopes up, but I do feel as though we may all meet again at some point.”

“When?”

“I don't work well with specifics.”

“I see.” Vivi rubbed her face with her sweater sleeve. 

“You should get some sleep.”

“I've been asleep on this couch for hours.”

“Yes, but you need your rest.”

She clutched her dog to her chest. “You'll look after Arthur when I'm not here?”

“I promise. Go to bed.”

As she drifted off to sleep, the thoughts of Lewis that echoed around her mind were of him taking care of his brothers and sisters, playing his violin, besting Arthur in a chilli-eating contest, singing along to the radio on the way to a case, “teaching” Mystery how to play dead. 

There was no way he could be forgotten.


	3. Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, kudos-givers. Much appreciated!  
> Writing Arthur is tough because I'm not sure how much Vivi canonically remembers; I personally go with her remembering Lewis, and being under the impression that he died under more "convenient", bear-related circumstances, thanks to Mystery's memory-meddling. Arthur, obviously, remembers everything, which has got to mess you up on so many levels; he's technically got away with murdering someone he loved, but still feels responsible, and is unable to face up to that for Vivi's sake.   
> So yeah. Comments, reviews, etc are always appreciated, I dig feedback.

He had experienced the hospital bed through bright lights, rhythmic beeps that echoed around the spotless walls when his IV bag was empty, the sharp scratch of a needle in his arms, no, arm, no arm, no arm. 

The smell burned his nose and green lights danced when he shut his eyes. His mouth was often dry, partly from the medication they kept shovelling into him and partly because, for whatever reason, his jug of water was on the dresser to his left. He tried to roll over to reach it once, and it hurt, sparks and spasms shooting up and down a limb departed. He ended up jerking at a particularly dreadful stabbing pain that seemed to reach his heart, and his remaining hand slapped it from the night stand. 

His heart. That fucking thing. 

Vivi, as always, was wonderful, visiting him, dragging the chair around to his right hand side so she could hold his hand and talk to him. She never asked him to speak. Sometimes she said nothing herself. His parents visited once. They were angry. He'd learned to tune out their words since That Day, ignoring them until they left. 

He would have felt proud, were it not for the bone-deep, aching shame. 

He still felt the warmth of Lewis' back on the hand that was long severed, saw the look on his face as he fell. He couldn't explain it. He shouldn't have been able to even feel anything in that hand, what with it no longer being there, and not truly being the hand that pushed Lewis, wonderful, brave Lewis, at all. 

The first night in hospital, he'd been barely awake. Vivi had been elsewhere, in shock, probably interviewed by the police. There were sharp pains and screams and that sense, the one you get when you do something terrible in a dream, and still feel terrible when you wake up. The hospital room, or ward, or wherever he was.... it was dark, and both cold and artificially warm. A light beamed in from the corridor, footsteps occasionally echoing by. At one point, a nurse, a young man with cold hands, checked on him. Dusk twinkled in his vision, and nothing seemed quite real, until, unexpectedly, he saw a shadow on the wall. 

He knew who it was. A fox with an array of tails. God knows they wouldn't let Mystery in the hospital, but that dog was not a dog, not really. It might have been the pain killers, or the trauma, or anything, but he saw it as the truth. 

The shadow opened softly glowing eyes. 

“I couldn't find your memories after I found Vivi. I'm sorry.”

His look must have said a lot. 

“It was a bear. A bear attack. That's how you lost your arm, that's how Lewis slipped off that ledge. Vivi wouldn't know. She was with me, remember?”

He did remember. He remembered a cold, sickly feeling down his left arm and a shrill voice in his head. 

“Not that. It was a bear. Arthur. It was a bear, and nothing you say to the contrary will help.”

It had screamed at him, sent what felt like currents of electricity through half of his body. His arm, when extended, had felt as though it were being torn from him. The voice had increased in pitch until his skull nearly cracked, Arthur looking over the edge of the precipice, containing howling and remorse and "Yes, keep those thoughts, they taste wonderful..."

To tell the truth, Mystery tearing his arm off had barely registered, not when he could see Lewis' body starfished across that stalagmite, not when Vivi screamed like she had a knife to her gut, not when her screams died down and became rattling footsteps towards him, the undeserving boy who murdered-

“She doesn't remember.”

He tried to sit up, but the fog over him was too heavy. The shadow's eyes dimmed slightly. 

“I am here because I need to let you know two things. The first is that it was a bear attack. It came out of nowhere, scared Lewis, he slipped-”

Oh God. His name. Arthur's chest ached. 

“It ripped your arm off before I distracted it. That's what Vivi knows. That's what you know. And the second thing is that it wasn't your fault.”

Arthur made a horrible kind of honking noise that was supposed to materialise as a laugh. 

“Yes, really. Some spirits... they feed off negative emotions.”

He tried to move his lips. 

“Everyone has them. Vivi does, Lewis did.” Arthur sent the shadow a quizzical look. 

“No. Not me. I'm a dog, remember? But it was you the spirit chose, in this instance. You were not to know. Actually, there is a third issue I need to mention.”

He had resigned himself by this point, slumped in the bed, aware that he was speaking to shadows and myths. Mystery seemed aware of this. 

“This is real, Arthur. And you need to remain alive. No matter how much anyone would think otherwise.”

He didn't deserve to be alive. How easy had it been for the spirit to possess him? 

“In answer to your question, it was opportunistic. You just happened to be the first suitable vessel that had arrived in a while. And Vivi needs you.” Arthur glanced at his shoulder. “Regardless of how many limbs you carry.”

Arthur croaked out just one word. 

“Why?”

“Because she's already lost Lewis. You've lost Lewis. You will need each other. If she looks too far over her shoulder, it will all be gone.”

Arthur slumped against his pillows, aware of the pain fizzing in his shoulder. He let out an unintended whimper. 

“I promised her that things would be as they should be.”

The clicking of heels down the corridor, all hard flooring and cartoonish posters about washing your hands properly before and after-

Hah. Hands.

“Arthur, I have to go now. Please try to sleep. She will need you.”

Five minutes later, a nurse arrived. After nothing from Arthur but choked sobs, there was yet another sharp scratch in the crook of an elbow missing its twin, and then everything was dimmed, vague and slow. 

*  
He twisted his uncle's card in the fingertips of his real hand. He could never get used to calling that thing his hand, he thought. He was getting better at moving it. He could almost tie his shoelaces now. But it wasn't his, not really. Every glance at it did nothing but remind him that his left arm hadn't even been his before it was torn off. This particular limb was pastel pink plastic with visible wiring, whirring and growling when he moved it. He had tried to pick up a glass with it the other day, and broken it. 

“Your uncle stopped by at the hospital a few times, you were kind of out of it though.” Vivi was cutting a small PBJ sandwich, presumably for him. To his surprise, she sat down and began to eat it. “He really wants you working with him, I mean, when you can.”

Arthur gave a dazed nod. His voice creaked like a haunted gate when he finally used it. 

“That all you're having?”

Vivi glanced down at a sandwich several layers shorter than it would ordinarily be. 

“...yeah. Don't have much appetite at the moment. Sorry, I'm being a dick, did you want anything?”

He shook his head. 

“You sure?”

“Sure.”

Vivi pushed her sandwich to one side, and shuffled towards him. 

“You need to eat, you know.”

“I do eat-” his voice cracked and he coughed until Vivi handed him a glass of juice. “I do eat.”

“Barely. There was nothing to you in the first place, and now I have to nag you to-”

“I'm fine. Painkillers make me feel kinda sick, is all. Thinking of ditching them-”

“Don't you dare. Not yet, anyway. And definitely not all at once.” She fiddled with the crust of her sandwich. Before, it would have been about two stories larger and inhaled in seconds. “How is it feeling, anyway?”

Arthur lifted the alien-feeling... not limb, exactly. He flexed the fingers with some difficulty. “Gotta be honest, I hate it.”

“Does your shoulder hurt?” 

He nodded. “Yeah. But it's more... like, when I don't have this thing on, I can sort of feel tingling and this weird ache, like-”

“Like the arm's still there?”

“Yeah. Phantom pains. Apparently that's normal, they might go away, they might not.” He shrugged. “It just feels even weirder with the fake arm on, like there are two opposing things there. Problem being, I'm supposed to keep it on as much as possible or I'll never get used to it, so I'm stuck with it.”

“I'm sure you can work on a better one though, right? You're good at making things.”

“Doubt it. I think building a functioning limb might be a bit outside of my skill set.”

“You can. I think you can. You...” Vivi's face crumpled. “God. I'm sorry.”

Mystery stirred at her feet and jumped into her lap. She buried her face in his fur. “I'm so stupid. Hey, this cave might be haunted, let's go visit it with no knowledge of caving or suitable equipment or even the right clothes for it, that's going to end so fucking well...” 

God. She thought it was her fault. She was crying and apologising to a murderer, a creature who snuffed out a light in an instant, and she cried for his lost, traitorous limb. He found himself murmuring “No, I'm sorry, I'M sorry, please listen, it was-”

Mystery leapt over at him, in theory to comfort him but really to give him a warning glare. A small whisper materialised inside his head. 

“Don't.”

“It was my fault.” He realised he'd spoken aloud when Vivi lifted her face from her hands. 

“How can you even think that?” she asked, as Mystery continued his disembodied whispers of “Don't.”

The two voices were overwhelming. He squeezed his eyes shut, guilt and green and darkness, and everything seemed so far away. Four arms flailed in the dark, flesh and bone, plastic and wires, putrid and dead, tingling and inaccessible. 

God, the screaming. 

He knew of some pressure, somewhere far away, on what was his good shoulder, could hear short puffs of breath possibly coming from him, but for now, there was this darkness, echoes, that fucking screaming, a sick, wet cracking sound, all rebounding around the inside of his head until the concept of anything else disappeared from view. 

He wasn't sure how long he'd drifted through the darkness when he became conscious of being covered by more than his clothes, and something warm next to him. Feeling started to return to him, his remaining limbs. He could still feel those sparks and pops of what felt like electricity in his muscles. He was used to that, on his worst days, even before. 

He lay there for a while, feeling his body phase back into existence in the here and now, and, finally, opened his eyes, just a little bit. It was dimly lit, here. He glanced down to see the bedsheets over him. Looking to the left revealed that his prosthetic had been removed, and that Mystery was on the bed. That whispering started again. 

“How are you feeling?”

Nothing, right now. Not really.

A gentle hand on his good shoulder. 

“Arthur?” 

He turned to Vivi, lying at his side. 

“Hi.” It came out as a whisper, his mouth bone-dry once again. 

“Do you want some water?”

With a still shaking hand, he took the opened bottle and drank like a dying man until it was empty, then dropped it on the bed, feeling utterly drained of everything he had. 

“You didn't seem to hear me.” She pushed a lank strand of hair off his forehead. “You just kind of... I don't know, froze. It's OK though. I called the hospital. They got that psych guy you were talking to to call me back.”

Arthur remembered him. A middle-aged man, squat and clean-shaven, hair thinning at his temples. “Dr. Maudsley.”

“That's the one. He said to bring you in if you weren't... you know, at least responding in a couple of hours.”

It felt like wrenching mountains from the earth, but Arthur sat up. Mystery shifted onto his lap. “How long have I been... I dunno.... wherever?”

Vivi twisted her hands in her lap. Her nails hadn't been painted in weeks. “More like three hours. I'm sorry. I should have taken you in, but...”

“I'm glad you didn't.”

“They'd have put you in some horrible unit, and... look, I'm not a professional, but I can't just leave you there, I mean, we don't ever have to talk about Lewis, not if you can't handle it, I-”

“No. I want to. If it's OK with you. I just... please don't blame yourself, OK? Promise me?”

She nodded. “OK. Promise the same?” And he felt terrible for lying to her, like another part of his shattered soul had crumbled to dust, but he agreed. 

*  
That night, Arthur asked about the funeral. Vivi described it, how so many people came. How there was so much food, including Lewis' favourite (although she was one of the few people who actually ate it). How his mother called her occasionally to see how she was doing or share the burden of grieving that poor boy who fell to his death doing what he loved. Arthur's heart lurched and Mystery licked his hand until he got a grip on himself. Barely. 

And so it went. Vivi eventually went to work more often. Arthur found himself deliberately foregoing painkillers. Not because he didn't need them, but because he simply didn't deserve them. Who was he to care about his comfort? He had destroyed one life and broken another. So he spent his nights cringing in pain, sometimes biting on his fist so that he wouldn't make any noises that woke Vivi, who slept in the next room. He got to work on a new arm, even though his remaining hand shook with anxiety and medication withdrawal, and he still wasn't used to his prosthetic one. He considered ways of atoning for his sins, wondered about religion, volunteering in soup kitchens, anything. Mystery picked up on this occasionally. 

“Arthur. It wasn't you who killed him.”

“It fucking was.”

“It was your body, but not you. When did you last sleep?”

He had dozed off at his work desk earlier than day, only to wake up an hour later, screaming like a klaxon. Thankfully, Vivi had been at work, but the neighbours had knocked on the wall and yelled at him to shut up.

“I can't sleep.”

“You can.”

“I technically can. Nothing good lies there though. It shouldn't.” He realised that he had burned a hole through a circuit with his soldering iron. “Fuck.”

Mystery sighed. “You really need to take the medication, Arthur.”

“It made me feel sick.”

“Not just the painkillers.”

“Why? It's not going to bring Lewis back.”

“No. But consider this: take the medication. Sleep a little better. Be there for Vivi. She's worried about you. That's why she doesn't talk much about Lewis. She's worried for you.”

Arthur froze. 

“I killed him, though.”

“She doesn't know that. And again, it wasn't you, not really. But if you take the meds, you might come close to being able to provide some support to her. She has Lewis' family, and her family, but she needs you.”

Arthur felt his eyes start to burn with hot tears. “She blames herself, and I can't make her stop without telling her it was me. My arm.”

“And if you do that, she'll be be truly alone. She'll have lost both of you. I can't make you stop blaming yourself; for reasons even I don't quite understand, I could alter her memories, but not yours. I still can't alter yours, actually. I've tried.”

Arthur glared at the dog, or not-dog, or whatever he was. 

“Don't mess with my memories. Someone needs to remember what happened, who better than the one responsible?”

“Well, it's obviously destroying you, so I thought I might try to help.”

“Maybe I need to be destroyed. But I see what you're saying. I'll be there for Vivi. I owe Lewis that much.”

“Good.”

“I will tell her, though. One day. Years in the future, when she's moved on and got over both of us.”

Mystery just nodded towards the kitchen. “We'll see. Take the pills. Sleep. Talk to me if you need to, but we need to keep her functioning, and, in time, happy. Do you understand?”

He did. He choked down the various pills, and went back to work on his arm until he felt drowsy enough to stagger to the bedroom and lie next to her.

That night, he dreamt of flames raging red and yellow and blue and purple, of his body splitting into two pieces, of pitiful, featureless creatures crying out for freedom, of bats and cogs and burnt out circuits. He slept reasonably well until he jolted awake after a feeling of falling. Vivi, unexpectedly, remained asleep. 

She needed the rest, he thought. 

And that was how it worked. He hid the worst of the terror from her, held her when she cried for a man he killed, and waited until she left for work, then broke down with only Mystery there for company. In time, he managed to produce an arm which was slightly shoddy, but still infinitely better than the sickly pink monstrosity he'd been using. In more time, he accepted his uncle's job offer. Lance had been the first adult to encourage him to work on what he was naturally good at, and had continued to be that as he grew older. He got better with his prosthetic arm. He even got the van working again, then, once Uncle Lance left him to lock up, sobbed like a child in the front seat when he remembered the last time he used it. And then, he went home, sat with Vivi, talked, played video games, waited until she went to bed, and then reflected on everything, how he would rather be unloved and imprisoned for what he did than continue to live with the guilt. And Mystery insisted it wasn't his fault, but it was his hand, and, finally, Arthur realised that his punishment was this; to live as normal. With a girl who trusted him and had no idea that he killed the man they both loved. His duty, he decided, was to ensure that her life was as good as he could make it. Which meant that, when she suggested shyly one evening that they look into a case, just a small one, involving a haunted mirror in Nevada, he agreed. He wanted her to be fine, to keep working in the one profession that made her truly happy.   
That, he decided, was his penance.


	4. Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some elements of starting-to-heal-but-not-quite.

Comparatively, he hadn't been a dog for all that long. And there were aspects he enjoyed; loathe as he was to admit it, he did like being scratched behind his ears. He found himself enjoying sitting near, or on, people a lot more than he used to. Vivi was wonderful, feeding him and walking him and holding him on her lap when she cried and missed Lewis. Arthur walked him too, but seemed more distant since the cave incident, possibly because he knew what Mystery knew and felt guilty, possibly because he had been somewhat disconnected from everyone and everything ever since. Mystery saw enough to know that no-one blamed Arthur more for Lewis' death than Arthur. 

Of course, the problem with being a dog was that it left you open to certain complaints; in this case, fleas. He thought he could see one of the vile, jumping parasites earlier, had hurled himself into action and instead slammed into a cupboard door, paws scrabbling at his torso. And that was why Vivi had gone to the pet store; to get him some medicine. For now, he was locked outside. Arthur was in, sending him the occasional apologetic glance through the window while continuing to work on his arm. It had, apparently, given Arthur some sort of purpose, to work on the limb; Mystery knew that his intended manner of coping with all that had happened would be unacceptable when Vivi needed him. Arthur considered himself a coward, and was quite open about that fact, but he loved Vivi enough to postpone any suicidal intentions for her sake. From what Mystery could tell, there was no romantic subtext to their relationship any more, not now that Lewis was gone. Instead, they slept in the same bed, woke each other up from nightmares, whispered shared memories to each other. They were practically a 50s sitcom couple, albeit one with serious issues. 

His ears pricked up at the sound of the front door opening, and he lunged at the door, scratching at it until Arthur rolled his eyes and let him in. Vivi came into the lounge with a much larger bag than expected. 

“Vi, are you planning on ridding the entire country of fleas?”

She lightly slapped Arthur on his good shoulder. “Shall I start with you? Anyway, no. I got Mystery his drops, but I saw something while I was there and thought of you.”

“Oh God. It wasn't a muzzle, was it?”

She smiled, and handed Arthur a small box which seemed to move on its own. 

“What the... Vivi, this isn't a case, is it?”

“What, the case of the haunted pet store? Don't be stupid, just open the box.”

Arthur gently opened the box, only to let out a girlish squeal at the results. Mystery tore away from Vivi, trying to apply the drops to the back of his neck, to see what it could be. Arthur sat there, beaming, with a hamster in his hands. 

“Oh my God, he's... wait, it's a boy hamster, right? Yeah, he is, he's got the tapered back end... Vivi, he's awesome!” He lifted the small animal to his face. “He even looks like me, he's got the same tuft of dark hair at the front-”

Vivi burst out laughing. “Why do you think I picked him? Poor dude was going to be left alone if someone didn't buy him, I couldn't leave your hamster equivalent to that.”

Arthur frowned as he noticed the tiny creature trying to walk across his hands. “Vivi, is there... y'know. Something up with him?”

“Oh, yeah. His back legs don't work. The dude at the pet store said he was going to end up as snake food if no-one bought him.”

Arthur clutched it to his chest. “What? That's not fair, it's not his fault his back legs don't work.”

Vivi smiled. “And that's why I got him for you. You managed to make a functioning limb for yourself, I'm sure you can come up with something to help the little guy get around.”

Arthur observed the hamster moving in his hands for a few seconds, took into account his mobility. He nodded. “I'm sure I can come up with something.”

*

Weeks later, Vivi's fingertips rubbed against the backs of his ears as she scrolled through local news, looking for any indication of something untoward. As much as he hated to admit it, he preferred it when she petted him; with Lewis gone, it was her knack for making him shake his leg happily, or Arthur, using a hand that shook nervously and just served to make him feel worse, or a hand not even of flesh and bone. Granted, Arthur had not used that one since the first time he tried, only to make Mystery bleed with an overlooked sharp edge. 

He had cried in his room and not gone near Mystery until he leapt up onto the bed and wriggled close to him. 

Arthur, he decided, had a hard time forgiving himself of anything. 

“Man, there's nothing.” She huffed, flinging her Sharpie across the room. “Ghosts are such lazy assholes these days, it's like, what's the point in being dead if you don't get to haunt anything?”

Mystery cocked his head to one side. 

“Don't give me that shit. Talk already.”

“You want to see Lewis.”

Several very different looks flurried across her face in seconds. “Shut up.”

“You do though. You're looking for him. And you asked me to talk.”

“Hey, does it seem weird that I still pet you even though I know you're completely sentient-”

“Vivi.”

She hesitated. “Is it bad? Like, I hope he moved on OK. I don't want him to be bitter and still lurking around. But I just... there was so much I never said, you know? Like how he made me feel safe even when it was some complicated case where he didn't know what he was doing. He was good at that. He was wrong, in the end...”

Her voice trailed off and she stared at her lap. Mystery lay across her feet.

“In response to your question, it feels pleasant when you pet me. In response to Lewis, if he is still around, he will reveal himself when ready. Believe me, Vivi, if he hasn't passed on, he will look for you. You can't force this reunion, even if it's inevitable.”

She wiped her face. 

“It's just... I'm meant to move on, eventually, right? From me and Lewis. And now from me and Arthur and Lewis. We haven't... you know, not even once, not since-”

“Arthur loves you. You know that.”

“I think he blames me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because. Just... because. Because it was all my fault we went to that stupid shithole cave in the first place and-”

“He doesn't blame you.”

“Of course he does. He's too nice to say he does, but he does. Christ, he's missing an arm because of me. You don't think I hear him at night? And even when he does come to bed, he-”

“I know.” Mystery had baulked at Arthur's screams upon waking up on so many nights. Vivi's face seemed to tremble and she burst into tears. 

“Lewis is dead because I'm a fucking idiot, Arthur is down to three limbs and nightmares because I'm a fucking idiot.” She raked her hair back off her forehead, eyeliner starting to run. “I just... I want to find Lewis. I do. More than anything, other than having him back. But I also kind of want... I want to show Arthur the world isn't a complete nightmare.”

Mystery nodded. “You want to prove that not every case is doomed to failure.”

“Exactly. And it wasn't, but this wasn't just like we wrecked the van or someone broke a limb, or anything. Lewis died and I cried and got drunk. Arthur lost his arm and his fucking mind and what did I do? I bought him a hamster. I've caused so much damage, and I fix it by getting hammered and purchasing rodents.”

There was a brief pause. She began to laugh. 

“That was my plan. Fix my dead boyfriend and fucked up... whatever he is now. Booze and hamsters. Vivi the self help guru. Hey, try my rat and vodka smoothie-”

Mystery tugged at her sock. She glanced behind her to see Arthur, clutching a tiny creature in his still-living hand.

“He's a great hamster though” he said softly, lifting him towards her. “Look.” 

The hamster had a strange sort of apparatus on his bottom half involving wheels. Arthur placed him on the floor, and the animal shot off quickly, stopped only by getting wedged under an errant cushion. Arthur picked him back up, put him back in the cage, and hugged Vivi. 

“See? Things can be fixed.” She knew she was leaking snot and tears and indignity onto his shoulder. 

“I don't blame you. Not even a little bit. I promise, it's not your fault, not at all, OK?” He looked so earnest, searching for eye contact. She managed a small, wobbly smile. 

“Named him yet?”

“Yeah. Galahad.”

Vivi gave him a disbelieving look. “You named a fucking hamster after-”

“After Sir Galahad, yes. Or Sir Galaham. Both seem to work.”

“Sir... Galaham.”

“Yeah. Clever, right?”

And, just for a moment, she placed the heaviness of her guilt to one side to hit Arthur with the same cushion “Galaham” had been stuck under. 

“Arthur. You absolute. Goddamn. NERD.”

And Mystery knew to appreciate that moment, just while the green fog lifted for anything, even a few seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of this work!  
> Sort of starting-to-heal vibes, but not quite; more distracting themselves. It's kind of a given that Arthur would blame himself for what happened, knowing the facts and all, but surely Vivi would too? I'm going with the idea that she has always basically been the leader of the Mystery Skulls; I know if we're going with Scooby Doo comparisons, you'd be tempted to think Lewis was this when alive, but come on, look at her damn face when they arrive in that mansion. This is a girl who adores anything creepy or paranormal. So it probably would have been her idea to check out the cave, which must weigh on her a lot.   
> Also, Galaham. If there's one thing I like more than animals with gallant names, it's tiny animals with gallant names.   
> Anyway, next work starts after the events of the Ghost animated video.   
> As always, thanks for kudos, and hey, comments and feedback are really helpful too, so if you have time, they're always welcome.


End file.
